Responding to the death of Victoria Climbié in 2003, the Laming Report stated that cultural differences should never again be a factor in inadequate child protection. Yet since that time there have been further deaths of children involving exorcism and allegations of witchcraft, based in part on particular understandings of Christianity. Situations resulting in forced marriage, cliterodectomy, ‘honour’ killing and corporal punishment are practices often perceived as arising from religious belief, both by those who defend them and by critics. This article explores practices perceived as grounded in religious belief or culture that conflict with current child protection practice and norms about what is harmful to children. The role of religious education, rights to manifest religious belief and different understandings of adoption are also considered as examples of religious difference in understandings about children. Engagement with religious difference through a defence of children's rights and autonomy are proposed as one means to resolve conflicts between religious worldviews and what it means to protect children. The aim is to identify and foster reflection and debate about different understandings of what constitutes harm, in order to enhance consensus over child protection where views of what is harmful differ radically.1

In December 2009 the Supreme Court by the narrowest of margins (5 to 4) found against the Governing Body of JFS (formerly called the Jews' Free School) on the basis of direct race discrimination. Consequently, schools run by Jews, Sikhs and any other faiths that happen also to be an ‘ethnic group’ are barred from giving priority to children who are members of that faith. As is well known, the very broad definition of ‘ethnic group’ was set by the House of Lords in Mandla v Dowell-Lee at a time when the protections afforded by the more recent laws against religious discrimination were lacking. The majority in the Supreme Court evidently, and with some justification, considered that this definition was sufficiently settled law that only a legislative, and not a judicial, intervention could alter it. In contrast, those faiths and denominations that avoid falling into the Mandla trap, may continue to give priority to their members in admission to their schools. A number of commentators have confidently predicted that this case does not therefore affect most other schools with a religious character. Such a conclusion may be somewhat hasty. The minority held that this was a case of indirect, rather than direct, discrimination and, as such, potentially subject to justification. Perhaps the most surprising element of the judgment is that, unlike Mumby J at first instance, a majority of the Justices did not find it self-evident that a Jewish school giving priority to Jewish applicants in its admissions policy was a proportionate means of pursuing a legitimate aim.

The process of Church–State separation began 90 years before the 1919 Enabling Act, which gave the Church Assembly legislative powers. The Assembly was conceived not by William Temple's Life and Liberty movement but by aristocratic Conservative politicians, motivated by practical efficiency and High Church principles. With Church lawyers, they dominated it for 40 years. The Church's response to Parliament's rejection of the 1928 Prayer Book, to the Matrimonial Causes Act 1937 and, in the 1950s, to the impossibility of fully articulating in the Church of England's canon law its doctrine on marriage discipline and the seal of the confessional, was united, confident and defiant. The Worship and Doctrine Measure 1974 largely completed efforts to achieve legislative autonomy without disestablishment. The General Synod era has seen changes in both Church and State. The traditions that eclipsed the Church's former ‘Centre-High’ consensus have been less concerned to underline the Church's distinctive identity and doctrines, about which the Synod has been less united. Among MPs, Conservative High Churchmanship and concern for minorities have waned, while expectation that the Church's practice will reflect contemporary social attitudes has increased, placing the long-term survival of the 1919 settlement in question.

Defining religion for the purposes of constitutional or human rights protection is a challenge shared by UK and Canadian courts in this era after the enactment of the Human Rights Act 1988 and the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms 1985, respectively: neither defines what is to be protected. Canadian courts have been impressed with this task since 1982 and, unsurprisingly, the Supreme Court of Canada (SCC) has considered the content and scope of section 2(a), the fundamental right to freedom of conscience and religion, on a number of occasions, most recently in Syndicat Northcrest v Amselem. The outcome in Amselem is a salutary reminder that, for post-modern courts, religion can be whatever they want it to be, and, indeed, be nothing in particular, which merits protection or not at the whim of these courts. In Amselem, a 5–4 majority of the SCC reduced religion for Charter purposes to any beliefs which the complainant calls religion and persuades a court to be sincerely held. A court then has the discretion to decide whether to extend legal protection to those beliefs (and their allegedly offensive practice) without giving credible reasons beyond the complainant's sincere belief in them. Amselem may, therefore, be of considerable interest to British lawyers regarding the potential lurking within ostensibly generous constitutional protections for religion ultimately to reduce religion to nonsense undeserving of legal protection.

Concerns about legal pluralism, the co-existence of more than one legal system within a state, have become pronounced in recent years, owing to fears about the operation of sharia law in Western societies. At the same time, the concept of legal pluralism has become ubiquitous within legal literature. Paradoxically, the concept is both politically controversial and academically banal. This article contends that a major failing of the concept of legal pluralism has been the inability to distinguish legal norms from other forms of social control. It is suggested that this failure can be overcome by developing the concept of a ‘legal order’ as found in the work of Maleiha Malik and the understanding of law as discourse in the work of the German theorists Niklas Luhmann and Robert Alexy. It is argued that developing these approaches provides a means by which legal norms can be distinguished without adopting either a wholly objective or a completely subjective approach and without focusing exclusively upon the legal norms generated by the state.

Religious offences in Italy, as in many European countries, have a long and complex history that is intertwined with the events in the history of the relationship between church and state and the institutional and constitutional framework of a nation.

This article is divided into three parts. The first part aims to offer some historical remarks concerning the rules on the contempt of religion and blasphemy in Italian criminal law from the end of the 19th century to the present day. The second part focuses on changes to the law on vilification introduced in 2006 and the third part deals with the recent developments in blasphemy law in the context of sport.

The article shows that, on the one hand, reforms of the offences grouped under vilification of religion are anachronistic and do not stand up against the religious freedom of individuals, yet on the other, despite the traditional rules for the protection of religion being considered obsolete, they are applied in new areas of law, for example sport, and are used to curb bad manners and bad behaviour. The relationship between the new functions of these criminal rules and the traditional ones, however, remains uncertain and fluctuating, and reveals a moralistic approach to religious offences.

Religious education is probably one of the most attractive topics in law and religious studies – a truly bottomless pit which, every now and then, reveals new questions and new challenges. The most recent judgment of the European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR) concerning this matter is the one delivered on 31 October 2019 in the case of Papageorgiou and others. The judgment only became final at the end of January 2020, under Article 44(2) of the European Convention of Human Rights (ECHR), so as yet it has not received much scholarly attention. However, it should be expected that there will be no lack of such attention, as the judgment deserves it for at least two reasons.

In 1974, the province of Alberta began to issue drivers' licences with photographs of the licence holder but exempted persons who objected to having their photographs taken for religious reasons from the photograph requirement. At that time the Muslim population of Canada was tiny and it was an unspoken assumption that the exemption was created for the Hutterian Brethren who have long had a number of colonies throughout the Prairies. In 2003, the province made photographs mandatory for all licence holders and created a provincial facial recognition data bank for the photographs. The Wilson colony of Hutterites objected to having their photographs taken on the ground that photographs constitute an infringement of the second commandment concerning idols (Exodus 20.4) as they understand it. Without drivers' licences, the colony is unable to make off colony trips to take their produce to market, or their ill members for medical treatment, or to be volunteer firefighters in their surrounding area, that is, the absence of licensed drivers makes it much more difficult for them to sustain their largely self-sufficient agrarian communal way of life which is also a matter of belief (Acts 2.44) without the expense of hiring taxis or outside drivers on an as-needed basis. The province offered a compromise that Hutterite drivers be issued with photograph-free licences but that photographs would still be required for the data base. The colony suggested a photograph-free licence bearing the words, ‘Not to be used for identification purposes’. Neither side accepted the other's proposal and the colony initiated litigation on the ground that the freedom of religion of the Hutterites pursuant to section 2(a) of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms (the ‘Charter’) had been infringed. The colony succeeded at trial and by a 2–1 decision in the Alberta Court of Appeal but lost in a 4–3 decision in the Supreme Court of Canada because in the view of the majority, written by McLachlin CJC, the photograph requirement was a ‘reasonable limit’ on religious freedom and ‘demonstrably justifiable in a free and democratic society’ under section 1 of the Charter.

A panel of experts has produced a Statement of Principles of Christian Law, drawn from an examination of their internal regulatory instruments. These principles are offered for further examination by comparative scholars of church law, as an expression of shared ecclesiology, and in furtherance of the ecumenical endeavour.

In the last decade, the religious dimensions and significance of the European Union have been increasingly recognised. This paper sets out the role and regulation of religious associations within European law. Although it is often assumed that European competence does not touch on matters of religion, a jurisdictional separation of ‘economics’ and ‘religion’ has been increasingly hard to sustain. European law grants various privileges and exemptions to religious bodies. However, the dominant model to emerge is one of pluralism: distinctive substantive legal regimes applicable to religious bodies, and a distinctive participatory position within the governance of the European Union. However, the paper suggests that the pursuit of pluralism has not been entirely successful National diversity in this field coupled with the sheer complexity of achieving a reasonable balance of competing interests conspire to make it remarkably elusive. What is needed is a greater recognition of the right of States to adjust European legal requirements to accommodate the legitimate needs of the religious bodies within their jurisdiction and a renewed commitment to producing workable solutions in dialogue with religious associations.

The right of patronage has for many centuries played a most significant role in the life of the English Church. In many ways it is a remarkable concept. What could be more spiritual than the right to present a clerk who is to have the care of the souls of a parish to the bishop for admission and institution? Yet from around the twelfth century this right has been regarded in England as a piece of secular property, and disputes concerning this right cognisable in the common-law courts. Coke tells us that it is an ‘incorporeall inheritance’, or, to use a more modern term, an ‘incorporeal hereditament’, which is real property capable of devolving to heirs on intestacy and yet takes no tangible form: an invisible right which gives substantial power to those who possess it.

The implementation of Article 17(3) of the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union (TFEU) has always been one of the central topics of discussion for legal scholars analysing the relationships between religious groups and European institutions. According to Article 17, the European Union shall maintain an open, transparent and regular dialogue with churches, religious associations or communities, philosophical organisations and non-confessional organisations. In the case in hand, the complainant, the European Humanist Federation (EHF) decided to lodge a complaint before the European Ombudsman when the European Commission rejected the proposal for a dialogue seminar.

Most clerics of the Church in Wales will be aware that many people on the fringe of Church life will describe themselves as belonging to the Church of England, rather than as members of the Church in Wales. A Welsh hospital chaplain recently issued a circular requesting that Anglican patients entering hospital should describe themselves as members of the Church in Wales rather than of the Church in England. Seventy and more years after the disestablishment of the Church in Wales there is thus confusion in the minds of many about the identity of the Church in Wales. Is it, or is it not, part of the Church of England? But if there is confusion in the minds of some about the identity of the Church in Wales, there is equal confusion about its status. What does it mean to belong to a disestablished Church? What does it mean to be a disestablished Church?

Hate preaching is capable of constituting both hate crime and hate speech, lies at the centre of many religions’ understanding of the manifestation of their religion, and frequently raises the contentious issue of regulation of the use of sacred scriptures. This brief article explores the regulation of hate preaching by criminal law, discussing the particular problems posed by oppositional religious speech, before concluding with suggestions for a number of ways to reduce these problems.

In the aftermath of the tragedies in the United States on 11 September 2001, the news media in the United Kingdom reported a great increase in crime and attacks on Muslims. A Director of the Central Mosque spoke publicly of the unprecedented backlash against the British Muslim community and whilst emphasising Islam to be a religion of peace and opposed to terrorism, urgently stressed the need for greater protection. The police chiefs were responsive. The government had to act.